It hasn’t been fun, after receiving some MAJOR attitude from some professionals outside the E.R. [...]]]> Don’t worry, it’s all procedural. Greg’s shunt has been flaky, this time resulting in overpressure as opposed to under pressure. We’re in the E.R., waiting for The Neurosurgeon or his partner to show up and talk with us.

It hasn’t been fun, after receiving some MAJOR attitude from some professionals outside the E.R. The doctor and nurses in the E.R. are angels, thankfully.

Please pray for wisdom for the doctors and all the other people in the E.R.

It hasn’t been easy – waking up early means going to bed early. It [...]]]> I like to think I’m not totally insane for deciding that 0530 is a good time to wake up. In fact, I end up getting a lot accomplished. And, I’ve been faithful to that wake-up time for two weeks now.

It hasn’t been easy – waking up early means going to bed early. It also means getting out of bed – which is usually quite warm and into the day – which is usually not as warm as our bed is.

The coffee maker helps, as long as Greg or I remember to get it ready to brew at 0520. Greg, the always early bird, is usually up before my alarm goes off; and begins to unload the dishwasher while I drag myself out to the kitchen.

The best part of waking up (besides Mystic Monk in my cup)? The time with Greg. We’re (relatively) awake, and can discuss things that need to be discussed without virgin ears in the presence. Or we can pray Morning Prayer together. Or just sit and watch the sunrise. By the time the kids get themselves out of bed, I’m fed and watered, dressed, the kitchen is ready for the kid’s breakfast, I have a load of laundry in, bonded with my husband sans kids, I’ve prayed, read the daily Mass readings, and whatever else needs to be done. I have gotten a lot done, and I can focus on the kids totally as opposed to trying to multi-task.

It works for me. I don’t feel trashed in the evening, like I thought I would. I do admit, I “sleep in” on the weekends … usually up around 0630 or even (*gasp*) 0700.

There’s been a couple other posts about waking up early floating around the Blogosphere: one by Jen and the other by Brandon. I agree with both posts and the points they raise.

Waking up early works for me. It may not for you, and that’s OK. But, if you think you’d like to get up early – give it a shot. I’ll even send you a reminder email if you want, once I peel myself out from under my luscious down comforter.

Allow me to jump on the bandwagon.

Last year I read 49 books. Which isn’t bad, considering if you look at my “Books [...]]]> One of the things I love about the New Year is that the blogosphere is abuzz with everyone’s favorite books from 2011, and their recommendations for books to read in 2012.

Allow me to jump on the bandwagon.

Last year I read 49 books. Which isn’t bad, considering if you look at my “Books of 2011” page, you can totally see when the depression took over my life (hint: it was August). I read a lot of good books, but there’s one that tops them all.

The Jesuit Guide to (Almost) Everything by Fr. James Martin, S.J.

I almost didn’t finish this book because I was so depressed and this book is a bit long, and I didn’t know much about Ignatian spirituality and I am firmly monastic and St. Ignatius scares me and I actually had a Jesuit tell me to stop reading St. Ignatius’s Spiritual Exercises because I was asking WAY too many questions and we decided that it’s not in my best spiritual interest to read the Exercises right now. But, because I rarely not finish a book, I soldiered on with the Jesuit guide. I finished it, and then decided I would absolutely need to get a copy of it. And read it again (which I have).

If you’ve ever been depressed, you know the interior monologue of a depressed person usually consists of:

I’m no good.

There is nothing good about me.

Everything I do is wrong.

I am worthless.

I am unlovable.

With that in mind, I’m sure you can understand how words like this rocked my world:

“My biggest misconception was that I would have to change before approaching God. Like many beginners in the spiritual life, I felt I wasn’t worthy to approach God. … I confessed this … “What do I need to do before I can relate to God?” I asked. “Nothing,” he [Fr. Martin's spiritual director at the time] said. “God meets you where you are.” (page 81)

“In such “still small” ways as emotions, insights, memories, feelings, and desires, God speaks to us in prayer.” (page 133)

[on Ignatian contemplation] “Using my imagination wasn’t so much making things up, as it was trusting that my imagination could help to lead me to the one who created it: God.” (page 146)

And yes, perhaps I’ve heard these messages before but they never really sank in. It wasn’t until when I was so broken and open to God that they sank in. And have not removed themselves since.

Chapter Eleven, entitled “Surrendering to the Future” is all about obedience, acceptance, and suffering. God knows how deep the pain of the miscarriages are, the frustration with myself as I try and manage not one but three different “mental disorders” all while being a wife, a mom, singing in the parish choir, and just life in general. If I could quote the entire chapter, I would.

There’s something deeply Benedictine about St. Ignatius and Ignatian spirituality. Obviously, it has its differences but there is a lot of overlap and fleshing out of Benedictine spirituality. At least, that’s how I see it. It turns out there’s a reason for that:

“So in 1522, at the age of thirty-one, he made a pilgrimage to the Benedictine abbey in Montserrat, Spain, where with a dramatic gesture right out of his beloved books on chivalry, he stripped off “all his garments and gave them to a beggar.” Then, he laid his armor and sword before a statue of the Virgin Mary. (page 13)

Fr. Martin goes on to write that St. Ignatius spent a year in a small town nearby (Manresa) where he was subjected to something I’ve been subjected to myself: “a great spiritual dryness, worried obsessively about his sins, and was even tempted to commit suicide.” (ibid.)

Now, I’ve not been tempted to commit suicide anytime recently, so don’t go there. But the spiritual dryness, the obsessive worrying about his sins (aka, scruples) – been there, done that, bought the t-shirt. So, in a way, I feel like St. Ignatius “gets it” – as much as a soldier-turned-priest and founder of a religious order from the 16th century can understand a wife and mother in the 21st century. And not only does he “get it”, he let God use it and turn it into something totally snazzy.

So, after reading the Jesuit guide twice I can say that I feel like I know a little more about Ignatian spirituality, I still am firmly monastic but St. Ignatius isn’t scary at all (in fact, I feel down right chummy with him), I’m not depressed (thanks to good medicine, spiritual direction, frequenting the Sacraments, seeing a therapist, and self-care), and maybe at some point in my life I will actually read the Spiritual Exercises. In a perfect world, I would “do the Exercises” but until the Jesuits actually come to my little po-dunk town, I don’t think that will be happening any time soon. But I am asking God to arrange that, so let’s see what He does.

It’s been a fun Christmas, except for that dull ache inside me. It’s so hard not to have that ache, when the entire world is focused on the birth of an Infant. It’s hard not to think “boy, I would be 32 or 36 weeks pregnant right now … we would [...]]]> So, it’s Christmas.

It’s been a fun Christmas, except for that dull ache inside me. It’s so hard not to have that ache, when the entire world is focused on the birth of an Infant. It’s hard not to think “boy, I would be 32 or 36 weeks pregnant right now … we would be preparing for our own baby.”

Yes, I have had multiple crying meltdowns over it all this past weekend. It’s so frustrating, especially since some people (well-intentioned) are beginning the “so, when are you going to have another?” questions.

How do you tell them that without injected blood thinners, carrying a child to term is a risky and (as we found out this summer) sometimes fatal proposition for the unborn baby?

How do you tell them that you’re now on a few medications that make having a baby Really Not A Good Idea – and that it may stay that way for a few years.

How do you tell them about the ache inside, the desire for another baby but the realization that it’s just not in God’s time right now?

How do you tell them about the isolation you feel? How you have to ‘get over it’ or ‘keep it together’, depending on who you’re with? How you (still) feel like a freak of nature, and that no one really understands (unless they’ve also been through multiple miscarriages). And that the next time you do become pregnant (God-willing), it won’t be this happy joy-filled time, but rather a time of close medical monitoring, needles, and heightened anxiety?

I’ve found you can’t, rather just hope they don’t notice the misty eyes as I mumble something along the lines of “It’s not the will of God right now.”

To our dear sweet babies, who are so patiently waiting for us in Heaven; pray for your poor Mother who aches to hold you so intensely right now.

And to the Mothers who have walked this extremely painful and lonely road, pray for me. And I am praying for you.

My problem was a simple one: why, despite having quiet time for the kids and myself; do I feel so burned out by the end of the [...]]]> The other day, I had an epiphany. I’m sure I’m the last person on the planet to figure this out, but at least I figured it out.

My problem was a simple one: why, despite having quiet time for the kids and myself; do I feel so burned out by the end of the day?

Clearly, I had some medical things factoring into that, but even with the depression and panic under control, I still felt burned out. I read a very, very good book a few months ago: The Jesuit Guide to (Almost) Everything by Fr. James Martin (and I plan on devoting an entire post in the future to this book, it’s that good). In it, Fr. Martin talks about St. Ignatius’s Examen. If you don’t know about the Examen, here’s a page talking about it.

The Examen really, REALLY speaks to me, on a variety of levels. I had attempted to do it at least once a day, until Fr. Anonymous asked me to focus on something else for the time being.

At any rate, in the Examen I reviewed my day in detail, and noticed something about my quiet time. The kids were asleep (or quietly playing if not asleep), and what was I doing? Anything but quiet time. Sure, I was quiet, but I was busy – very busy.

The epiphany that I came to is simple: make MY quiet time restful, just like the naps or quiet playing is for the kids. This means not giving into the temptation to get everything done that I can, or idling surfing the Internet, or whatever. Sure, things that absolutely need to get done get done – like diaper laundry. But that’s pretty much it. Everything else waits.

I use this time to pray, as best I can. I make myself sit down, realize God’s presence, and pray. I also do my lectio divina at this time, on the daily Mass readings.

Afterwards, I do things that are truly refreshing to me: reading, drinking a bunch of tea, listen to music, writing, that sort of thing. And when the kids are up from their nap or finished playing, we’re all refreshed and ready to go.

We aren’t too strict on Quiet Time is exactly at a certain time, rather we “peg” it to Greg’s lunchtime. The kids know that when Daddy goes back to work, it’s Quiet Time. Sometimes this is problematic when Daddy has a late lunch, but those days are few and far between. The important thing is that Quiet Time happens, and happens after lunch.

I really look forward to Quiet Time now, knowing that I will be able to refresh my soul and my mind and my body, and take a break from “doing stuff”. Relaxation has been hard for me to do, simply because I have been so anxious for so long, that “doing stuff” helps soothe that anxiety.  But now that things are getting sorted out, I am beginning to savor relaxing and just resting. It’s something I definitely need and only now have really been working on making sure I get.